


Backyard Roleplay

by ch3shire



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Childhood, Depression, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch3shire/pseuds/ch3shire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When playing in the backyard leads to drunken confessions and bruises. And when slowly, that transforms into a 12-year-long gap neither of them saw coming. </p><p>Merlin and Arthur have been best friends since the age of 8 until the fateful night Merlin encountered the last punch he could withstand from his father mourning his dead mother. As time passes and innocence fades, Merlin sees Arthur through tearful eyes after witnessing his boyfriend cheating on him. This is a tale of possibilities and a fair amount of angst.<br/>NOT FINISHED YET.<br/>(Also, I'll be redoing this description soon because it sucks and hardly tells any of what I want it to.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Keep up, Merlin!” Arthur’s laugh rang out above the dulled sound of his and mine’s Styrofoam swords clashing.  
“I can’t! Where did you learn to do this?” I asked at an equally unnecessary volume.  
“I don’t know, it just comes naturally, I guess,” he replied after dropping his sword and looking down at me panting with an amused smile. “You see, Merlin, this is why you are my servant and I’m the prince. I mean, what prince can’t sword fight?”  
“Can’t I at least, I don’t know, have magical powers or something?” I asked through the still enduring pants.  
Arthur only laughed, which I took as a “You’re too stupid to have magical powers.”  
\---  
That was 20 years ago. That was before high school, before middle school even. Before life kicked in and took time and innocence away. That was when we were 8.  
It’s strange I am thinking about that at this exact moment, this exact moment when I stare at the blank table in front of me, in a modern apartment with the lights that are as low as my feelings.  
Ugh, what a cheesy metaphor. Honestly, I guess being cheated on brings out the inner teenage girl in me. Even that simple thought brought back the flashes from approximately 30 minutes ago, when I walking into Gwaine’s apartment to find him and, well…  
I stand up and walk slowly across the room, empty beer in hand, despite the fact I don’t even remember drinking it. I grab the nearest lamp and stare at it for a couple second before imagining myself whipping it across the room with a strength I’m not even sure I’d be able to possess before returning it to the table once more. What would be the point of that unnecessary violence? A dent in my wall, a broken lamp, and an anger that still dwells within me.  
I turned my thoughts back to the face I glimpsed through my tears as I sprinted from the ajar door on the 4th floor of Gwaine’s apartment building. A face I will never forget. A face I spent most of my childhood smiling into. A face that once looked at me panting on the ground with amusement and told me to get up.  
\---  
“Oh, get up, you idiot,” Arthur gave a gentle kick to my leg and walked towards his house.  
“Clotpole,” I called after him, getting a chuckle in return. Even when he’s 8, he’s still an arrogant jerk. The late fall leaves crunched beneath my feet when I walked towards the sliding door. The house was a home to me. A friend welcoming my into their awaiting arms after a long day. A place that grew from memories of freshly baked cookies to one of where I could pretend that everything was okay.   
“Are you two children done playing make believe in the backyard?” Morgana’s voice echoed from her room down the hall.  
“Ahh, remember when she used to be so nice?” I asked in a reminiscent voice, earning a smile from Arthur.  
\---  
The obstreperous noises emitting from my cellphone brought me from the world of my memory back into the haunting reality. I answered it, thinking not of who the caller most likely was.  
“Merlin,” Gwaine’s voice rushed in relief. “I don’t know what to say.”  
“That’s because there is nothing left to say, you have made your message perfectly clear,” I spoke in a surprisingly even tone.  
“Mer-,” I hung up.  
For some strange reason, I could not get those dizzying cheekbones from my mind, or the blond hair that was lighter when he was a kid, or the amazing ways his eyes twinkled when he looked at someone he loved.  
\---  
“It’s the quadratic formula, how do you not understand it?” I once asked in exasperation.  
Arthur and I were sitting at the round table that occupied his kitchen. A clear expression of frustration etched into his features.  
“It’s the quadratic formula, how can you understand it?” He asked me, throwing his pencil down, obviously done with math for the time being.  
It was freshman year of highschool and I was tutoring him in Algebra, a class I had taken 2 years earlier considering I found regular classes too easy.  
“Ugh, fine, if you don’t want my help,” I replied, placing my pencil on the table and smiling at his glare.  
“So, uh, how are you doing?” he asked, staring at me with an expression that held a seriousness I simply could not wipe off with a joke.  
“Fine, and she’s doing fine. Well, I mean, not fine, she has cancer, but the treatments are going smoothly, or so says the doctors,” I replied.  
Doctors. What a generic term. All I think of is a group of middle aged men in white lab coats prodding my poor mother in her hospital bed she hasn’t left in 4 years. And then they fill our ears with empty medical terms while a blank expression sits on their face and their vacant tones reverberate through your entire being as they tell you the one you love is going to die. Fuck doctors.  
“Oh,” he replied in a downcast tone, despite the fact he already knew that.  
“But, you know, she’ll be fine.”  
And there wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t know that was a lie.  
\---  
Arthur was such a good friend. He cared so much. I fished another beer from my fridge and pattered over to the welcoming couch, returning to my memory.   
\---  
I sit curled up in the corner of my bedroom closet, tears running down my face as I clutch my sides in pain.  
My father just left in drunken fury. It’s been 5 months since mom died and it is not blowing over well with him. Despite the fact we’d known for sometime she wasn't going to make it, I believe he was convinced she would be one of those miracle cases you’d read about in the newspaper, but no, she died like everyone else did and will.  
I am getting tired of the empty bottles that have littered the floor, of the kicks and punches that have been consistent since that monitor showed that fatal flat line. I am just tired.  
So I threw on a longsleeved shirt to hide the bruises, wiped the tears from my face, and quickly dialed Arthur’s number.  
“Hey, Merlin, what’s up?” His voice was sluggish and musical to my ringing ears.  
“Be ready in 10 minutes, we’re going to that party,” I hung up before receiving an answer.  
Considering it was sophomore year of highschool, I had had my license for several months now and heard no protest when I stormed from the house and into my car.  
Arthur lived but 5 minutes away from me and I knew the route as well as the hallways of my own broken home. I didn’t even bother to get out of the car since it was seconds before I saw him jogging to my car in a v-neck t-shirt.  
“Hey, Merlin, you honestly want to go to this party?” Arthur asked upon buckling in.  
“Yup,” I answered without hesitation or eye contact.  
“Alright. Shit, Merlin, your neck,” he said, seeing the purple skin peeking from the closed neckline.  
“It’s been happening for 5 months, it’s nothing new,” I replied evenly.  
“Yeah, but your neck? That’s got to hurt.” I replied with nothing and navigated the roads as various signs and trees. The silence was the farthest thing from comfortable but I didn't care. I just wanted to run, to run so far he bruises just disappeared.   
"Merlin! Slow the hell down!" Arthur's voice rang and I felt a push of guilt as I brought my speedometer down to 30. “Wow, look we’re here already.” I said sarcastically and got out of the car, waiting for Arthur to catch up with me.  
“Merlin…” he said, grabbing my shoulder, forcing me to stop. “You can’t just keep going and going without stopping because one day you’ll collapse.”  
“I collapse not because I endure but because my father is tripping me,” I replied as unconsented tears welled in my eyes. I wiped my face in frustration, cursing my low tolerance towards my abundance of feelings. I turned and continued walking up the lawn but not before Arthur saw the evident distress. The closer we got to the house, the larger it seemed and the louder the music seemed to be booming. I could smell marijuana from the front porch as I threw the front door open and welcomed the chaos.   
Drunken bodies were everywhere, grinding, making out, talking, dancing, creating some strange alternate universe where identity ceased and euphoria began. I made my way to the keg immediately, Arthur following my every step. There were people all around me, forcing my entire being to wince, expecting a blow at any second.  
20 minutes later I’m horribly drunk, Arthur’s terribly sober, staring at me worriedly and blocking everyone from getting in a 1 foot premises from me. _It's not like I can't protect myself, ___but let him keep me cornered. Normally, I would feel as though I were trapped, caged in by a body, it doesn't matter whose. But Arthur, Arthur is someone else. He's hurt me physically before, but always horseplay and never since my father had started.  
I look around at the faces, some smeared with makeup, others I know will grow up to either work at McDonalds until they’re forty or become a politician, both equally horrible. Lust filled eyes that will never know the pain of breaking a wall of ignorance they don’t even know is there. Bodies that will someday be beneath the ground and then deteriorated. Bodies that have been marked and abused, that have been taken advantage of, have been altered to attempt a reflection of their soul.  
And suddenly, all of these bodies were hanging from rope. Their lust filled eyes lifeless, their dancing limbs vacant and flimsy. Their smiles gone as innocence washed away like a retreating tide. Theirs lives nothing but unoriginal stories no one will remember.  
My screaming went unnoticed. My pain only taken to heed by Arthur, who was holding me in his arms as everything quaked. A hug of a friend and a feeling of yearn for something more were overpowered by my own anxiety and insanity. Hallucinations shook my body until it was reduced to only tears and shivers. No longer were the bodies hanging but they were dancing with the ropes still tight against their neck. One by one, they hoisted themselves up and ended the dancing, ended the euphoria. Somewhere distant, Arthur's voice screamed desperately as his best friend writhed in a pain that washed over him. A stress I couldn't escape.  
“No, no, no, what am I going to do, what am I going to do?” I kept repeating this until my drunken brain could take no longer and my breath hitched and my body went still in Arthur’s arms. My eyes stayed open and my heart continued beating as the world swirled around me and the voices collided into one, demonic song.  
After a while, Arthur picked me up and took me outside. And as I stumbled along I fell onto the soft grass and looked up at the stars, the stars that seemed just a little too bright in my drunken perspective. Arthur lay down beside me, saying nothing. All I had within me knew the next sentence was a mistake but all of the alcohol coursing through my veins powered the reveal.   
“You were right about collapsing, Arthur, I’m just happy I did so in your arms,” I slurred. “You’re always there for me. Such a good friend. Sometimes I want to be something more. All the time I want to be something more.”  
“Merlin-” Arthur said in a soft voice.”  
“I love you, Arthur, I always have. Always,” and with that the too bright stars faded into a darkness that was a bit too consuming for my drunken mind.


	2. Doctors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Gwaine did not cheat on Merlin with Arthur.

I’m not even sure if I regret that night. In fact, it’s a miracle I even remember it, what with the copious amounts of alcohol corrupting my veins.  

I look down at my hand without a speck of surprise upon seeing it covered in blood from the broken beer bottle in my hand I apparently crushed.

I guess I do regret that night.

I get up to clean and dress the subconsciously self inflicted wound while the bitter reminiscing presumes.

\---

These white walls are suffocating. I smell the horrifying chemicals and my mood worsens. What am I walking towards? What lies at the end of this hallway that’s scattered with doorways to death and disease? I hate hospitals.

There’s a crying woman off in the distance and I hate to fathom who in her life died. Her husband? Daughter? Son? Brother? Sister? All I see is pessimism. Each tentative step of mine echoes in the emptiness. I know what I’m walking towards, what fate awaits me. I know the immediate future. 

I walk towards a man in that white coat of his and that expression on his face that assures my prediction. 

“I’m sorry, but your mother has passed,” it’s that stereotypical doctor again. White coat, swept hair, fake look of sorrow.

“Did you wake up this morning and know that someone was going to die at your hands?” I asked in a low whisper. 

“Now listen hear, she died of canc-,” he said, taking on a stern expression as if he were about to scold a 3-year-old.

“It doesn’t matter what she died of, she’s gone. Does your soul diminish every time your stupid little stethoscope goes silent or do you sleep soundly all the same?” my voice had risen alarmingly, attracting the attention of most of the staff and all of the visitors. “I BET YOU HAVE A FAMILY YOU GO HOME TO EVERY NIGHT AND KISS ON THE CHEEK AND TELL ABOUT YOUR DAY. ARE YOU GOING TO TELL THEM ABOUT THE CRAZY BOY WHO YELLED AT YOU FOR BEING A HEARTLESS ASSHOLE? YOU WILL GO THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH YOUR PRECIOUS FAMILY UNTIL YOU GROW OLD AND DIE OF OLD AGE BECAUSE YOU’RE SO PERFECT. I WILL SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH A HOLE IN MY HEART THAT ETERNALLY DISSOLVES LIKE SAND AND YOU WON’T GIVE A SHIT,”

"Do not speak about my family that way. I understand, your moth-," I cut him off in a dangerous voice that probably sounds petty to him. 

"I don't believe you could ever understand. You with your college degree and perfectly styled hair. Why'd you even become a doctor? Honestly," I ask.   
"I want to help people," he replied defensively. I snort disrespectively and stare him in the eyes. 

"That's what the all say," my voice cracked, losing its threat and the body began to shake as I walked away from him towards my mothers room, crying at the expected. 

\---

I know now I was being unfair and presumptuous. For me to be so judgemental was wrong and come to think of it, that doctor probably remembers me. Not for opening their eyes to their own selfish nature but as the "15-year-old kid who was so overwhelmed with grief he tried telling me my life plan" sort of thing.

But there is all of the possibility that I was completely right and he has lived his perfect little life in a perfect little house witnessing death every day but still gets up in the morning with a clear conscious.

I still hate doctors.

\---

Before even reaching the room, and object was rolled from it. The object covered in a white sheet. The object that has so many layers beneath, so many physical layers of skin, scars, organs, brain, heart. None of which function any more. And so many layers you can’t see but I know is there. The meaning to those scars, hard work, selflessness, compassion, love, acceptance, and everything good in the world. Lifeless were the hands that stirred my cocoa when I was 6. Closed were the eyes that crinkled every time I said something stupid. Stagnant was the heart that loved me unconditionally. Gone was everything good in the world.

“Merlin!” an out of breath Arthur suddenly appeared beside me, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me away from the white sheet and what lie beneath it. My feet moved beneath me, as if a completely new being, as if someone was controlling me, bent over the hospital room, maneuvering strings to force my feet into walking with Arthur to the plastic seats that are stained with the tears of those who have lost everything. I stare at Arthur and wonder if he’s connected to strings as well, and who’s forcing his feet to move. The I look up and all I see are the fluorescent lights, rather than the wicked grin of a depicted puppetmaster.

“...it’s okay, it’s okay, we’ve been preparing for this, remember?” Arthur’s voice finally reaches my ears, despite the fact I’m pretty sure he’s been talking for the past 2 minutes.

“What, yeah, we’ve been….preparing. What the hell does that even mean?” I ask. It’s kind of a strange thing to say. Emotionally preparing? How does one prepare themselves for something like this? Physically preparing a funeral?

“NO, no no no no no, sweetheart, no,” my father had arrived. We had never had a good relationship so I simply stared at the man I was supposed to love regardless collapsed to his knees and wept shamelessly.

\---

He’s dead now. Died of alcohol poisoning last year.

\---

“Wait, wouldn’t that be the Pythagorean Theorem?” Arthur’s incredulous voice asked as I sighed and gave up on trying to explain proofs to him.

“Okay, English I can get, science I love, history I tolerate, but math is not what I’d call my best friend,” Arthur said, attempting gentleness.

I said nothing and placed my hands over my face, trying to take a new perspective.

It had been 2 months after my mother died and 3 months before I professed my love for Arthur. I was to take my first beating from my father that night.

I peeked at Arthur through my fingers and noticed for the first time the bags under his eyes that didn’t quite match mine, the downcast look on his face that couldn’t compare to the depressed one etching my own features. It was the face of someone who is slowly losing someone they love compared to someone who has already lost one.

Between the late night Skype calls, the numerous study sessions that benefited Arthur just as much as it did me, and the carpooling to school, Arthur had to have been staring at the wall for hours wondering what on earth he could possibly do to make me feel better. And all of that time, he has been my rock. The post that an untamed beast might be tied to, after being tugged on for so long, it can become unhinged as well.

I have been selfish. So incredibly selfish. So I decide to reward Arthur with the one thing he’s been questing since my mother was diagnosed with cancer. My smile.

“Hey, let’s go to the movies,” I chirp, immediately sitting up.

“What?” Arthur’s tone disbelieving.

“Yeah, movies, let’s go.

“Uhhhm, okay,”

\---

Those few months he never left my side. And I took it for granted. I loved him, I loved him so much but it was devoured by the grief and hatred. It was a shining light that was captured and taken away from me. But now I truly think of it, maybe I was the light captured from Arthur’s life.

I decide this isn’t a night to be reminiscing in a lonely apartment, it is Christmas Eve after all. My face illuminates in the overbearing light of my iPhone as I dial Gwen’s number, undeterred by the knowledge of her previous plans.

“Merlin? How’s it going?” her cheery voice rung in from the other line. I heard Lancelot’s voice in the background along with a few others I recognized.

“Uhh, good, I just wanted to know if I could meet up with you guys?” I resent that my voice shook a little in asking.

“Yeah, of course! Is Gwaine coming?”

“Uhm, no, he’s...stuck with other plans, with other people,”

“Oh, okay, then yeah, come on over,” she fed me the address and I began to walk over to the bar.

The usually bustling streets of Chicago were hauntingly vacant what with the families staying inside from the cold and the college students home on break. The snow fluttered all around me, speckling my black hat and dotting the dark blue fabric of my jacket. I tightened the bright red scarf that hung from my neck and pulled the sleeves of my coat down in a feeble attempt to maintain body heat.

I wonder if Arthur has anyone to spend Christmas Eve with. If he’s curled up next to some woman I’ve never met. Nor do I have any right to meet. Or if he's smiling with his family and drinking egg nog. Regardless, I hope he's happy. 

And yet I cannot escape the depths of his beautifully bright, blue eyes. The pompous looks that contort his expression that I used to just want to kiss off but restrained myself. Those insecurities I want to hug away, those insecurities he shadows away with arrogance. His cheekbones that I just want brush away the tears that fall upon them. He is beautiful, not only physically, but on the inside holds a glorious depth few could match. To find someone like that is a truly magnificent thing. To lose someone like that is a spectacularly horrific thing.

I suddenly found myself outside the only bar open on Christmas Eve, looking in on my friends, the smiles on their faces, the cheery suggestions of their movements and I regret coming. But they have seen me, and they are rushing me in, there is no escape. I know I have only subject myself to further isolation, for a feeling worse than feeling lonely when you’re all alone, is feeling lonely while amongst people you love.

The door was decorated with a little wreath with a bell in the middle that rang when I swung the old door open. I removed my outerwear and shook my head free of stray snowflakes.

“Hey Merlin, where’s lover boy?” an obviously drunk Percival called out across the nearly empty bar.

“Screwing another man,” I said blatantly. Shit, I have now ruined their Christmas Eve. The table went entirely silent as I scooched into the booth alongside Lancelot and Gwen. The cracked upholsty diminished under my weight as I settled in and looked at their incredulous faces. 

“You’re kidding,” Gwen said in a dead tone.

“Not in the slightest, walked in on it about an hour ago,”

“Merlin...I’m so sorry,” she returned, touching my bandaged hand. Bless her for not mentioning it.

“As am I, but this is a night to be jolly so I am buying us all a round!” I ushered the grumpy man who owns the bar over and ordered. Slowly, everyone returned to their conversation but did so hesitantly.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Gwen asked in a hushed voice as she turned towards me, her eyes clouded with worry.

“No, I really wouldn’t,” I returned with a small smile. This only furrowed her brow deeper and provoked her concern to manifest.

“Okay, well, when you do, you know who to talk to,” she said with an encouraging smile.

I said almost nothing for the rest of the night as the table shot me worried glances and purposely avoided conversation of Gwaine.

And in that spot, I felt more secluded than I would anywhere else. Merry Christmas.

 


	3. Christmas

_Merry Christmas! I hope you’re all enjoying your break and I will see you when we return! When we get back, we’ll be starting The Physics of Stars and Stellar Systems so I would suggest looking at Duncan John’s A Pocket Guide to the Stars and Planets for a general overview of the topic._

 

I hit “Send” and thought about the upcoming semester. It’s my 3rd year as an astrophysics teacher at the University of Chicago so I am only just getting comfortable with my patterns and having so many faces looking at me for information. Granted, some of them are unconscious, but I suppose that’s just college.

I should probably just enjoy my break and avoid thought of school and...other things. It’s 3 in the morning and my head is spinning only slightly from the multiple drinks I had consumed. Everyone gave me a hug before leaving the homey bar and all going home, fighting the cold as it creeped through their skin and left a chill in their bones. Numerous apologies took place as looks of sadness were exchanged and messages of “it gets better” shot at me from a firing squad of sincerity.

I glance around the reasonably sized apartment. At the royal blue walls and the modern, light  grey sofa. My eyes flicker over the cabinet of natural herbs I use in my cooking and for medicines. It’s safe to label me somewhat of a naturopath. After all, I do hate doctors.

I sit back and simply admire the cityscape that’s visible from my floor to ceiling windows from the 12th floor.

I am lucky. I am lucky now and in this moment, but not many moments before then. If some outside, 3rd person were to see me in this exact moment and know nothing of anything about me, but just see me in a nice, low lit apartment, they would envy me and few would think of the toil that dwells inside me. And that is amazing, how oblivious someone can be, how one can look only on the surface, not even stirring the calm water to check the temperature underneath.

I suppose I should go to bed. I know I am only in shock, that my rage, and my sadness will come in due time, that the emotional wreckage is to come. I mean that is to be expected, I suppose, after your boyfriend of 3 years cheats on you.

3 years. Wow. A rage seethes inside me, at the base of which is a sadness that flows and rocks like the ocean.

Yes, I believe it is time for bed. Sleeping on it always helps. My footsteps carry me to the right of my favorite chair and into my bedroom. It’s closed off with no windows but a wall made entirely of brick. A messy bed lie towards the wall opposite of the door next to a black dresser. The walls are a deep blue with my own hand-painted and admittedly awful drawings of some constellations. It was a feeble attempt at decoration and the only way it looks half decent is Gwen’s amazing patch work. She is an artist, after all.

Without changing, I collapse onto the bed and spiral into unconsciousness almost immediately.

Night passes uneventfully, with only shreds of harmless dreams left in my mind upon waking. A flurry of thoughts hit me, as if they were waiting for me to wake so they could be thought.

I discard my shirt and change into some pajama bottoms after an attempt at tackling the mess of my hair. I’ve been letting it grow out so it nearly brushes the tips of my eyelashes. At times I feel it makes me look like a 15-year-old boy and yet I still let it grow.

I drudge over to the kitchen and select my tea carefully. It feels like a Chai kinda morning. I put water on to boil and ponder the prospect of buying a kettle. Maybe someday but not at the moment. I plop into my wonderful chair and slide my laptop onto my thighs and pull the lever that releases the leg rest. My inbox is empty. Unsurprising considering anyone I am close enough with for them to wish me a merry Christmas is going to text me or do so via Facebook. And I sent the email to my students only last night and it is Christmas, after all. And sure enough, my phone is buzzing in the other room, laying on the floor with my abandoned jeans. I retrieve it and check the multitude of messages on my way back to the kitchen to check the water.

As expected, there is a hurricane of texts from Gwaine with various apologies, one text of vicious anger represented with caps lock, one wishing me a merry Christmas, and several combining all three into rather strange messages.

4 from Gwen checking if I am okay and wishing what everyone else is on this iconic day. The rest of my inbox consisted of other messages from other friends saying what you might expect them to say.

I prepare my tea with two spoonfuls of sugar and situate myself in my chair.

\---

A smile erupts on my face even before my eyes open to see Arthur sleeping soundlessly on his bed. His room is a mess and it took 20 minutes to clear off the couch last night so I could sleep on it.

It was the Christmas after my mother died. She passed only 1 month beforehand.

Incidentally, that was the first thought that my mind conjured after waking, right after “It’s Christmas!”

My mood instantly worsens and I lay back down on the stiff couch, forming my face into a contemplative expression as I try to fight the anguish seeping its way from my heart and through my body. My movements blur and my mind feels as though it is trying to fight a battle and is gradually realizing it is being overcome. I feel a sudden lack of self worth. That I know after this, after this morning the Pendragon’s have graciously allowed my to be a part of, I will go home to my father. And that should be self explanatory to how it makes me feel.

“Merlin! Wake up! It’s Christmas!” Arthur’s voice transitions from sleepy to excited in those few words, causing a smile to creep upon my face and the battle in my mind to be given just a hint more of hope. My eyes flutter open for the second time that morning and I take in Arthur’s hopelessly messy hair and his wide open eyes that haven’t quite ridden themselves of sleep and his cavernous smile and the happiness that was simply radiating off of him. I feel a painful jerk in my chest that overpowers the hopelessness that previously consumed my entire being. I feel as though stars were cast upon my body and spread through my veins, chasing the darkness back into my heart for another morning that is not Christmas.

Arthur darts out of his room with an agility he has always possessed and into his livingroom where a gorgeously decorated fir tree lay with newly added presents beneath.

“There-there is a feeling like no other, looking upon a Christmas tree on Christmas day,” I say, looking at the sight that is like no others. Arthur only looks at me and nods his head.

“I mean, I’ve seen pictures of Christmas trees but none ever compare,” I add on, hoping he knows what I’m talking about. He only nods and stares.

I venture over to the couch and sit, letting Arthur have his moments of amazement. I’ve known him for 7 years and his love for Christmas has been the most obvious love he’s ever had. He eventually plops down next to me, and we sit in silence. Silence. This is something that has been so much more frequent between us lately. He’s too afraid to say something to me, regarding my mother or any of my family. Either that or he is simply at a loss for words.

“What kind of cookies did she make?” Arthur asks randomly and in a hushed tone. I recognize his attempt at getting me to talk about her, since I have neglected to say anything about her since her death. Though it’s strange he would do so through the topic of Christmas biscuits.

“Sugar cookies, mostly. She would always make these beautiful cookies that would actually look like the object she wanted them to, whereas my candycanes always looked like shapeless blobs,” I said, chuckling.

“I remember her chocolate chip cookies she would make. They were better than my mothers but I was always too afraid to say so. She always made you bring them over, even if it was below ten degrees outside. And then my mother would make a huge fuss and give you hot chocolate and insist that you take some of our cookies back. I always thought it was rather annoying, it reminded me of terrible tv show about cliche families. And then I’d watch you through the window as you trudged back to your house miserably in the cold,” it surprised me Arthur would pay such close attention to detail. I said nothing.

“Merry Christmas!” Mr. Pendragon boomed from the entry into the hallway as he made his way over to his chair by the fire, which he often called his “throne”.

“Would you boys like some hot chocolate?” Mrs. Pendragon asked sweetly as she rubbed her eyes and strolled into the kitchen, not even waiting on our answer before putting water to boil.

“So, Arthur, would you like to open a present?” Mr. Pendragon asked. A smirk appeared on Arthur’s face before he knelt down and picked up a modest looking gift. He tore away the paper in concealed excitement to reveal a football.

“Father, I don’t play football,” Arthur’s face looked confused, laced with disappointment.

“Ah, but you will! Next fall! You’ll be perfect for it. You know, I was the star quarterback in my day,” Mr. Pendragon’s proud look befell on Arthur with stressing expectations and an unrealistic reality in which Arthur actually achieved them.

Mr. Pendragon is a strict man who values family morals and tolerates no nonsense. He respects me somewhat for my friendship with Arthur but you can never tell what he’s thinking when he looks at you with scrutiny.

Arthur glanced at me with a dead serious face that told me everything I needed to know. Arthur did not want to play football, in fact he constantly complained about what douche bags most of the football players were. But he was also going to play it anyway. Anything to earn that proud look from his father and a slap on the shoulder that meant so much to Arthur. In that one present, the misery of his high school career was decided.

\---

My tea was gone when my reminiscing was finished. I placed the mug on the table next to my chair. Without a second thought I rushed from my apartment, shrugging my coat on only when I was outside and walking quickly towards Gwaine’s apartment, which lay only 4 blocks away. My shoes make a satisfying crunch on the not yet plowed sidewalk as the snow forms to the shape of my shoe. Few cars speckled the road, and the city seemed strangely at peace. The trees were lined with frozen, white lines that fell and melted so quickly. The snow had fallen but had not yet started melting, it was at that perfect consistency to inspire peace and happiness.

Both I would need to get through the meeting with Gwaine. I’m mostly doing this for my phone and it’s already full inbox. I didn’t want to face Gwaine. It would thaw the numb feeling his deceit left in me and the pain would be real and more alive than it was when I walked in on him.

Christmas music played from the speakers of a bakery as I walked by, giving a sound to the peaceful morning that held silence no longer. It faded eventually and I found myself in front of the doors of Gwaine's apartment building. I rang his room and he let me after a minute or two of my finger pressing the doorbell, despite the fact he had no idea who was at the door.

I walked deliberately up the steps to his room, attempting to delay what I knew I had to do. Once on his floor, I tried to find exactly which door was Arthurs. Remembering his face the night I stumbled from Gwaine’s room and saw that blond head of his through my tears. It was as if someone had slapped him.

Before I knew it, my fist knocked on his door. It opened and a very drunk Gwaine stumbled into my arms.

“MERLIN! Merlin, I’m so so sorry. So very sorry,” his words were slurred to the point it was barely coherent. “It meant nothing, nothing at all. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I dropped him and let him fall to the ground at my feet. It was a strange sensation, having a man crumble at your feet. It’s a sense of power that couldn’t help but make me sick. I removed my feet from under him and stood several feet away. Gwaine rolled over to reveal his sloppy face, half of which was purpling under his left eye.

“What happened to your eye?” I asked, hating the fact I still cared that someone punched him.

“Oh, my neighbor, I don’t know,” he slurred again. I discarded the information and tugged him to his feet.

“Come, Gwaine, we’re going to get you sobered up,” I say as I reach for his arm. He tugs away and points a shaky finger at my face.

“No! Not before I apologize! I _love_ you, Merlin. I love you more than anyone else. What I did to you was horrible and unjust and an act of lust and I’m _sorry_ ,” he grew more and more comprehensible with every word and I was almost persuaded. I considered forgiveness but then thought of the life we’d live after that. I would look at him with lost respect. I would never trust him again. That would be completely unfair to him because I’d have to lie and say I loved him. I do now, of course, but I will get over it. And if I forgave him in this moment, and we continued dating, my love would fade and I’d be left with a mess I created.

“No, Gwaine, I’m sorry, but we’re done,” I said with a sense of finality. Gwaine looked at me with a furrowed brow and heartbreak in his eyes. And I watched as that heartbreak slowly transformed into anger and as that anger moved from his eyes to his arm where he gripped my wrist, causing me to cry out in pain.

“Gwaine, let go of me!” I said seriously as he tried pulling me towards him. I can feel my mind panic and frenzy as my eyes search the Gwaine that hadn’t yet been lost to his rage.

He had hold of my other wrist and forced me into an unconsented kiss, forcing his tongue in my mouth, making me cringe and twitch while memories of the beatings from my father haunted my mind.

Through my protesting noises and moans only derived from the feeling of no escape came the sound of a door opening with a level of ferocity matched only by Gwaine’s rage with me. As if in a whirl of movement, my wrists were released and Gwaine was on the floor once more.

“I warned you once, do not make me do it again. If you so much as breath in Merlin’s general direction again, your eye will not be the only thing bruised. One glance his way and I will break your nose as well as your neck,” I would know that voice anywhere. That voice that reverberated through the air, forcing the world to go silent. It’s steely tone making the moment stand still, nothing moving, no sounds being made save my own heavy breaths. Arthur.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM REALLY SORRY.  
> I know I promised the 24th but I had unexpected family plans and then after that any free time I've had all of my writing was shit so here I am. It's 3 am and I only have a page done(I'm writing this note before I'm finished with the chapter). Erg I wanted to make this chapter really long but I fear it will be awful to say the least, if my attention span is too drawn out.  
> Anyway, please, please, please, please tell me something I can improve on.  
> I know it has been difficult to follow and have had some complaints about that, but I promise the flashbacks will be less frequent. Also, if you know anyone who would enjoy a Merthur fic, please send it to them! My progress has been minimal and I am getting less and less hits. I care very much for this story but I cannot make it successful without readers!  
> Also, I have never lost anyone close to me(well, my dog, but that doesn't necessarily count.) so I'm sorry if this is inaccurate, I'm trying the best I can.  
> The moderness (not a word) of the present time in this story is done on purpose to emphasize that Merlin is still Merlin, despite the technology he possesses in this story, and the lack of if he has in the show.  
> SO, comment, and bookmark. If you actually like my story and want to stay updated, make sure you bookmark so you know how to find it again!~


	4. Fireplace

Arthur pushed open his ajar door and made a gesture to follow him into his apartment. I glance down at Gwaine’s hardly conscious body and debate only briefly my course of action until deciding to go with Arthur.

And yet I stay back to look at Gwaine. His clothes are placed haphazardly on his body, as if he were still wearing what he threw on after I caught him being screwed by some nameless stranger. His face contained the usual stubble along with the bruises. His body looked weak and broken, as if he truly did regret what he did to me.

In this moment, bitterness and misery consumed me to the point where my foot meets Gwaine’s neck before I could give a thought to whether or not it was a good idea. Consciousness seemed to be fading from his eyes as he whimpered my name and an almost incoherent apology.

“Don’t call me,” I said in a steely tone that could never, in any frame of reference, match that of Arthur’s. I started walking towards the awaiting Arthur and only then did I wonder if reuniting with him was a good idea.

Before I could elaborate and panic over the fact I would have the first conversation with Arthur in years, the fabric under my feet changed color and I walk into his apartment.

I lift my head up to take in Arthur’s apartment, the Christmas tree in the corner, the wreaths placed strategically as well as perfectly.  I look to his small kitchen and see the extensive collection of hot chocolate his mother must have given him. My eyes finally rest on Arthur.

Arthur. Simply thinking his name brings forth a hurricane of memories as well as upheavals a strange concoction of joy and heartache. I take in the Arthur I once knew, welcome him into a heart that’s been waiting, waiting so long for him to return. I stare into the eyes I always knew, now with newfound pains and added laughs as well as the ones we shared together. His cheekbones grew even more refined, if possible. His beautifully blond hair falls upon his forehead to provide a thin coverage. He looks toned and I can’t help but wonder how many days he frequents the gym. But his eyes, I can’t help but return to stare into them and accept the disbelief interwoven with the faintest hint of betrayal that hides beneath his irises.

He clears his throat and I realize the amount of time we must have spent simply staring at eachother.

“Merry Christmas,” I offer hesitantly and look around the apartment. Books scatter the coffee table and I expect he has more in his room that I suspect is behind the door to my left.

“Merry Christmas to you as well,” Arthur chuckles, “You can come in, you know.”

“Ah, right,” I realize I am still standing in the doorway stiffly and walk inside to stand slightly less awkwardly.

“Would you like something to drink? I have lots of hot chocolate,” he says with hints of nervous amusement in his voice.

“So I noticed, I assume your mother sent it to you? And yes, I’d love some,”

“Good guess,” he replies with a smirk.

I wander to the black leather couch and sit down politely.

I’m in Arthur’s apartment. After all of this time and after of my thoughts surrounding him and the horrible remorse I felt, how much I missed him and his laugh, I am in his apartment.

I stare into the consumingly black television screen that is positioned on the wall directly opposite of me, right above an elegant fireplace that flickered with flames that contained more life than myself. I turn my attention to the terrace that looks over part of the college campus, now absent of the usual light that fills the windows. I appreciate the setting sun as I begin to take off my scarf, leaving it on the couch and become oddly fascinated with the contrast of the red on black. I leave my coat on so it doesn’t seem as though I am trying to make myself at home. Arthur strolls over with the hot chocolate and some sugar cookies he obviously baked himself, considering they were decorated with practically every sprinkle known to man.

Arthur suppresses a laugh as he glanced down my body.

“What?” I ask, my walls slowly collapsing with his resolves as his face morphs into a full blown laugh.

“You’re wearing pajamas,” he says.

“Oh…” I glance down and realize that I am infact wearing my plaid pajama bottoms. My face reddens and I try to ignore the feeling of happiness I have now that the tension is broken. “Shit… Well I-I had to confront Gwaine and could only do so if I didn’t think about it too much, so I sorta just ran out the door.”

“Of course you did, Merlin, you haven’t changed,” he said, causing me to smile and for my blush to grow even deeper.

“I hope that’s a good thing,” I say, honestly confused to what that means. It almost sounds like a deliberate movement of conversation.

“It is. I’ve missed you, Merlin. High school was… rough after you left,” and without another word he got up and walked into his room, returning only seconds later with what I recognize as yearbooks. He tosses me two, one of our junior year and one of our senior year.

Well, I shouldn’t say our, considering I left after sophomore year.

\---

I feel as though I’m walking to my doom. Someone should stop me. This is a moment I’ve been dreading for months, the second I see his face I know my resolve will crumble.

It was sophomore year, school had just let out for summer, but my break would not come until I delivered the news to Arthur. I almost forgot about the pain in my wrist and gently repositioned the makeshift cast I had made for it.

Children’s screams echoed in the distance as the elementary school down the street let out and kids started their journey home. Normally this sense of freedom and infinity would cause my mouth to widen into a smile but today my burden was too heavy, as well as the ever growing agony from my wrist that is anchoring me to reality.

I lost myself in thoughts of distractions until my feet were planted on the doormat and my finger was ringing the doorbell. Mrs. Pendragon answered the door with a surprised look on her face.

She hadn’t seen me in months considering I had been ignoring Arthur, always fearing his inevitable reaction. Most of my brain was persuaded it would be negative and he would mock me endlessly, torment me until I fell and he would be the one to trip me this time. But there was still a small part of my mind that dreamed of an alternative reality in which he reciprocated my feelings.  However, in my absence, Arthur took up with the football players, seeing as how he would be their star next fall. I see him walking the halls with the ones he used to dub assholes, laughing their laughs, speaking their taunts, consorting with those he recently despised. I watched him, I watched his eyes as joy faded from them and he let himself be consumed by the social pressures of letter jacket wearing douchebags. I watched as he frequently glanced my way with what I could swear was a look of remorse. A look of remorse because I fucked everything up. It was my fault our friendship collapsed because I couldn’t keep my feelings to myself. He has tried speaking to me multiple times but I only walked away. Now with all of that influence on his shoulders, he most likely only attempted conversation to call me a fag or do something else completely out of his personality.

“Uhm, is Arthur here?” I ask hesitantly.

“Yes, yes, he’s right upstairs, I’ll have him come down. Would you like to come in?” Mrs.  Pendragon answers, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

“No, no it’s okay, I’ll only be here for a short time,”

She nodded and ventured upstairs to get Arthur. Fear clawed it’s way from my heart through the cells in my body and provided a toxin to my brain. My thoughts became scrambled as my hands begin to shake. I crossed my arms in a feeble attempt to stabilize my body and winced at the reoccurring pain.  I stare at the floor and silently try to control my thoughts. Arthur’s footsteps came racing down the steps and his anxious face came into view as he walked towards me. His body was tense and he looked as though he was preparing himself for a storm he had no knowledge of. It saddens me to feel so isolated from someone I love so passionately.

“Merlin,” he breathed out.

“Arthur, I’m not here to make you love me, or to, uhm, to freak you out again. I’m here only to let you know I’m moving. I’ll be living with my grandfather now, I can’t take the abuse anymore,” I said, unable to look him in the eye.  Only two nights ago, my father broke my wrist, crushing it in his monstrous hands. He seethed out insults, mostly revolving around my reluctance in holding my tongue. I kept count, he called me a smart-ass 17 times that night. You’d think he’d come up with more creative insults.

“Mer-,” Arthur stared.

“No. I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you this, you don’t care for me,” the entire conversation I had kept my voice level until the last few words in which I whimpered out.

I sprinted from the house, gasping in the pain it caused my wrist. Arthur yelled something  after me I couldn’t hear. I continued running until I passed my house and collapsed in a field about half a mile from my house.

\---

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice brought me back as I was absently flipping through the yearbook.

“What? Sorry,” I muttered. I looked down and saw Arthur and his football team on the left of the page along with cheesy captions I didn’t dare read. The right side contained Arthur as prom king, his hand roped around some girl he probably doesn’t even remember. Even with that in mind I still felt jealousy tug inside me, causing me to cough and close the yearbook quickly. “So I see you got along well without me.”

“Uhuh,” he said, staring at me until he leaned back and took a sip from of his own drink. We waited in silence as the tension crept upon us once again, wading it’s way past any comfort that could have existed minutes before. “Merlin, are you really that dense?” His tone was incredulous and slightly condescending. “I hated that life, it was awful. It was hell without you there,” his voice hitched slightly. “Honestly, you moving was the absolute worst thing that could have happened.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur, I had to, my father was getting out of hand,” my voice lowered submissively because I didn’t have to, I would’ve endured anything if it meant our friendship.

“No, no you didn’t. You didn’t have to go. We could have called child protective services. You could have lived with me!”

“What, and have the never ending pain of knowing you would never have liked me the way I liked you?” The mere prospect of such a thing made me cringe. Every move of his would have been hesitantly, always afraid I was going to jump him, or something else equally stupid. Besides, his reputation would have spiralled dismally if everyone knew he was living with a fag.

“I loved you, Merlin!” Arthur shouts unexpectedly, slamming his mug on the table, causing much of the liquid to slosh down the sides and seep into the cracks of the wooden table. He sat back, leaning fully into the chair to examine me and my reaction. His eyes searched frantically for some hint of something. Neither of us knew.

I especially don’t know how to react to that. I’m at a complete loss for words. I just need to think this over.

“I, I need to go,” I said, standing up and began walking to the door. Arthur immediately followed until I reached the doorway and turned around, meeting his eyes which were staring at me desperately.  

“Thank you for telling me, Arthur,” I say, starting to look towards the ground.

“Merlin,” he responded in a voice that hardly brushed all of the things he never got to say to me. Hardly breached the walls of jokes and stories we could have shared together.

“I loved you, too,”

As if in a rush of intensity and lust, Arthur leans in and kisses me with passion that matched no other I had ever encountered. A kiss that made up for all of the years we missed. I reached my hand up and held the side of his face as he opened his mouth a little and I slipped my tongue in. We were both scared, of course, and hesitant, obviously, but in seconds the comfort level was achieved.

The kiss became deeper and deeper until I had my legs wrapped around his waist and he had me pressed against the door. My hands explore everything, taking in the body that had grown so much since I last touched it. My tongue probes his mouth as I finally did the thing I’ve been lusting for for years. Arthur’s hands held my hips firmly but twitched in anticipation to roam my body as I have his. Instead, he grinds his hips into mine and I could feel my erection start to harden.

I break the kiss off reluctantly and as we catch our breaths, I look up into his breathtakingly blue eyes that brightened with lust.

“Look up,” he instructs. I do as requested and saw a sprig of mistletoe. Of course. “I couldn’t resist myself,” he says with a smirk. That damn smirk.

I only give him a look. An admittedly smart ass look. I lower my feet to the ground and lead Arthur by the hand to the couch in which I push him onto. My entire being was enveloped in lust and love as I climb on top of him, not even considering whether or not this will have consequences.

As the making out commenced, Arthur’s hands trail my body with a gentleness I knew he possesses but never actually experienced. I let my hands roam beneath the hem of his shirt and grip his chest and abdomen loosely.

Arthur’s hands linger on my back until he let them venture to my hair, which he run his fingers through what feels like a million times. It feels incredible. The power such a simple act can hold is something I will never comprehend.

“You let your hair grow,” Arthur breathes out after he broke the kiss off, “it’s incredibly sexy.”

I only smile and begin kissing his neck. It’s an amazing feeling, to have a warm body beneath you, letting you touch them and have it responding to your every move. Feeling the muscles that go into allowing them encompass you in their arms, or the feel of them pulsating beneath you. To share such an intimate moment with someone is truly amazing.

Arthur locks my ankles into his and I could feel his erection poking at my leg.

His moans only encourage me to grind my hips into him, causing a whimper to escape his throat.

Speaking of Arthur’s throat, I made my way up to his Adam’s Apple and began to suck on that until Arthur was moaning my name. I place kisses on his prominent jaw line, allowing things to cool down a bit.

“Arthur,” I gasp his name and rope my arms beneath his shoulders to run my hands through his hair. “I don’t want this to go too fast. I cannot bear the thought of you even considering you’re a rebound of Gwaine,” I say. It makes sense, even if I don’t like it.

“Well, I wasn’t thinking that until now,” he jokes as I continue to plant kisses around his ear. God, I love him, I love him so much. I always have.

“But honestly, I’m not taking it too far. There is too much to risk,” I say in a hushed tone as I detach myself from him, which is rather hard to do. Arthur gets up as well and rests his head on my shoulder as he encircles his arms around my waist. I can’t help but lean into it.

“Okay,” he says in an equally faint voice. “At least stay the night with me? Christmas is too wonderful to spend alone,”

“I fear I didn’t get you a gift,” I joke.

“Oh, yes you did,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I read the previous chapter a couple days ago AND CRINGED OH MY GOD I'M SORRY I'M A BETTER WRITER THAN THAT. So I will be editing it. I'm not changing any events or anything, just replacing some sentences and changing some tenses.   
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Do you think I've been capturing their characters well? That is really important to me and I don't want to fuck it up.   
> On another note, after I return to school (Jan. 6th) there will be minimum updates considering the immense amounts of studying I will have for midterms. So I'm thinking of spreeing these next couple of days and having an update everyday. Maybe. 
> 
> Well, make sure you subscribe, kudo, bookmark, share, and what ever hall else you can think of. 
> 
> Oh, and did you like the almost-sex-scene? I've never written one before so I hope I did so well. 
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK. I care about your opinion a lot and want to make the story as enjoyable as possible but cannot do so without actually hearing what you guys would like to see. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed your New Years~ There will be a chapter about it hopefully in the next couple days.


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